Lovers sleeping softly, lay nightly intertwined
while mice run round the mantle clock
and shadows mask the sun.
It’s late to leave with work undone.
The clock has just struck one.
The mice are swiftly gone,
The fire is dying in the grate
as the cat prowls out

The lovers breath spreads out, deep into the gloom
He inhales her scent and dreams of wildly circling wolves
while she comes closer into him, huddled to his chest
and feels herself enshrined, held safe, peacefully possessed.

But he looks up to the sky and knows that he is lost
The birdsong he had heard before
is drowned out now by constant chimes and clocks